Wednesday - August 19, 2009
Enough? - July 2009
Which words are enough? A challenge arises. What words do you write down, or say, to capture the meaning of a life...brief or long?
Weeks ago, Gail ("mommy" to Jessie and "mom" to Jessie) attended a memorial service for all of the children who died at Childrens Hospital Boston last year. As much as these caregivers strive to save every child, and go to extraordinary lengths to preserve life, they cannot rescue everyone. Some conditions are too dire. Death is part of the reality at Childrens Hospital and Dana Farber's clinic. Life is bursting at the seams there, and cures and miracles and everyday healing occur almost all of the time, but death is also part of the experience.
Of course we know this...Jessie was one of the ones they tried to save, using all the tests and knowledge and procedures and experts and treatments available...but couldn't. In the end, although she challenged them, and made all of us believe she could come out the other side of her disease, she didn't come out of it as we hoped she would. Alive. Here. Among us.
Which words are enough? A challenge arises. What words do you write down, or say, to capture the meaning of a life...brief or long?
Weeks ago, Gail ("mommy" to Jessie and "mom" to Jessie) attended a memorial service for all of the children who died at Childrens Hospital Boston last year. As much as these caregivers strive to save every child, and go to extraordinary lengths to preserve life, they cannot rescue everyone. Some conditions are too dire. Death is part of the reality at Childrens Hospital and Dana Farber's clinic. Life is bursting at the seams there, and cures and miracles and everyday healing occur almost all of the time, but death is also part of the experience.
Of course we know this...Jessie was one of the ones they tried to save, using all the tests and knowledge and procedures and experts and treatments available...but couldn't. In the end, although she challenged them, and made all of us believe she could come out the other side of her disease, she didn't come out of it as we hoped she would. Alive. Here. Among us.
Whatever you might believe about what comes next, her journey passed into some place we cannot follow (yet). So we're left behind -- or moving on --grappling with the gaping hole of her absence. And the almost-ness of how close she feels, just beyond touch or sight or hearing, intertwined in how we continue to live.
Back to the 'A Time to Remember' Service: Part of the annual service is a series of readings and songs, read aloud or performed by the doctors and nurses at Childrens Hospital Boston. And occasionally, by parents. Gail read a poem, chosen by a taskforce of planners, that was written by another grieving mother. Gail, and a row of cancer parents, sat together, held hands, shared tissues, wept through songs, and chuckled at some of the children's literature read aloud, because children's books so aptly capture the vision, hope and resilience of children...even those who have moved beyond us.
And a recurring question arises now in Gail's mind. What lyrics or words will they choose for next year's service? What can possibly be universal enough, spiritual enough, playful enough, meaningful enough, to be included? What can sum up a whole life, and give it back to the families who gather to mourn? What can prompt them to laughter, provoke them to tears, and help them find a place and expression for their feelings and their loss and their lives stretching out ahead, full of promise and busy-ness and growth, but without a beloved child included in that future?
What words are enough? What song is right? How do they choose?
Gail listens to pop songs, skims poems, thinks twice about hymns and prayers, trying to find selections that would be worth sharing with the staff who plans and prepares this annual service. What words are enough?
None are enough. But we make do. Because we must. Because we can. Because we need to.
Actions speak louder. Sometimes words cannot fill the space or heal the heart that needs to find a way to live with loss. Sometimes actions are essential.
Actions. Gestures. Physical response. Inhabiting our world real-time and truly connecting with something bigger than ourselves, by immersing ourselves inside it. Reaching out in service, as we do through the youth group's activities (Sarah went to Philadelphia with our church for a week of service in soup kitchens, literacy programs, daycamps and community gardens). Or as we do through Bright Happy Power's projects that support children living with life-threatening or catastrophic challenges: North Shore peer groups, childlife projects and events at hospitals and clinics, or supplies for international medical programs.
Last month, cyclists rode on the North Shore for Bright Happy Power's fundraising ride. In a few more days, at the beginning of August, Bright Happy Power sends a cycling team to the Pan Mass Challenge to ride in memory of Jessie and others living with cancer. To make a difference. To raise funds for Dana Farber's Jimmy Fund for cancer research.
Chris and Sarah, father and daughter, are riding together in the PMC for the first time! One daughter cannot be there. One will cycle alongside her dad.
Several Ipswich 'Bright Happy Power' families are riding. Generations are participating together. Making a difference. Doing something that counts...a measurable, quantifiable, immediate, visceral response that changes the world and saves lives and...and kindles hope...and perhaps healing for bereaved riders, too.
Miles. Spokes flashing. Wheels turning. Sweat. Breath. Thirst. Hunger. Exhaustion. Euphoria. Feeling it. Living it. Being part of it.
Sometimes we must DO something, not say something. Sometimes, to live with this grief and to keep going...to make something more of our mortality and human experience...we must just...LIVE. Ride. Move. Keep going. Away from some things. Toward others.
What is the purpose? The ride itself. It's action. It's life. In honor of those who cannot. In celebration of those who can.
The journey continues.